perfect apartment, and his perfect kid. Antonio didn’t want him, anyhow, so why try to fool himself?
Chapter 6
W HO ’ S THE C LOWN ?
H EAWOKEto the angry buzz of his cell phone on the table by his bed. His ass ached, but his head hurt more. The pain in his wrist had returned with a vengeance. He had forgotten to take his meds the night before, and the alcoholic buzz was long gone, replaced by a sour taste in his mouth and a killer hangover. He smelled cigarette smoke on himself. He remembered now—the kid hadn’t had any smokes, so he had bought a pack at the tabaccheria down the street. It lay, half-empty, on the nightstand.
“Yeah?” Cary grumbled as he tapped the phone in irritation. He closed his eyes to block out the sunlight. He should have shut the stupid phone off when he stumbled in at three in the morning.
“You must get lots of compliments about your phone persona,” said the voice on the other end.
“Antonio?” Cary reminded himself that Antonio had said he was going to call to check on him in the morning, and tried not to get his hopes up.
“Good morning to you too, Connor. Are you always so agreeable in the mornings?” There was a trace of humor in Antonio’s voice.
“Sorry,” Cary said. “Late night.” He closed his eyes again and imagined Antonio, dressed for work in an expensive suit that skimmed the muscular planes of his body. A starched white shirt, open at the collar. Antonio’s Adam’s apple and the indentation below, at his throat.
“I woke you up, didn’t I?”
“It’s okay. I needed to get up.” Normally, Cary would have been up hours ago, even after a late night. He always got more practicing done first thing in the morning, even with a hangover. “What’s up?”
“I just spent an hour listening to my son go on about the ‘funny American’. Says you’re his new best friend. Something about an airplane?”
Little stinker wakes me up and now I’m his hero?
“I managed to get dive-bombed a few times.”
“Francesca says you two get along well.”
“I hate kids.”
“That’s not what I hear. Francesca said you were really good with Massi, and he’s not always the easiest to please.”
“Must be my stellar personality.”
“Of course.”
A moment of uncomfortable silence passed as Cary struggled to find another snappy comeback and came up empty. He didn’t think well hungover.
“Listen, Connor,” Antonio said. “I was going to come over and check on you, but you didn’t leave an address.”
“Nothing to worry about here. I’m fine.” Cary ignored the implied question. “There’s someone here to help, if I need it.”
“Oh.”
There was a hint of disappointment in Antonio’s voice Cary couldn’t help but notice.
Maybe he’s more interested than he lets on. The thought made Cary shiver, and he imagined himself on that big bed, Antonio’s cock in his ass and those big hands on his waist, the sound of their skin slapping…. Or maybe the other way around? For Antonio, he’d gladly top.
“Connor?”
“Hmm?” Cary hadn’t heard a word of what Antonio said. “Sorry, Antonio,” he said, adjusting himself in his briefs. “I didn’t catch that.”
“I… I’ve gotten myself into a little bit of a jam.”
“I thought that’s what people hire lawyers for.”
“Thanks for the help.” Antonio chuckled. “No, this jam comes just about up to my waist and likes metal airplanes.”
“I told you I hate kids.”
“Funny thing about dogs, cats, and kids,” Antonio replied, “they always seem to want to be with the people who hate them the most.”
“No kidding. So what did you do? Rent me out for babysitting?”
“Not exactly. But Francesca just happened to mention to Massimo that there’s a circus downtown this weekend, and I was thinking of taking Massi on Saturday—”
“You mean with clowns?” It was the only thing Cary’s sleep-deprived brain could think of.
“They usually have clowns,” Antonio
Learning to Kill: Stories